


Wet

by fuzipenguin



Series: Sideswipe Watches Too Much Porn [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, Light Bondage, Multi, Oral Sex, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sideswipe's sleazy sex talk, Spanking, Sticky Sex, Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-05
Updated: 2014-01-05
Packaged: 2018-01-07 14:53:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1121168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzipenguin/pseuds/fuzipenguin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Sunstreaker actually felt the lightbulb flick on in his twin’s head'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wet

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published on my livejournal on 1/31/12

       Things were going great, in Sunstreaker’s opinion.  
  
       Sideswipe was smoothly stroking in and out of Ratchet’s valve, making pleased little “mmm” sounds on every other thrust. The medic was moaning continuously around Sunstreaker’s shaft, delivering wonderful vibrations up it. All three of them seemed to be happily traveling down the road to overload, when Sideswipe got an idea.  
  
       Sunstreaker actually _felt_ the lightbulb flick on in his twin’s head. Right after, Sideswipe’s thrusts began to slow. Ratchet felt it immediately, and he jiggled his aft in an attempt to encourage Sideswipe to speed back up. Despite his inkling of foreboding, Sunstreaker had to admit the aft jiggling was pretty hot.  
  
       But then Sideswipe stopped completely, causing Ratchet to pull his mouth away from Sunstreaker’s spike. And that was just not acceptable.  
  
       “What the frag, Sides?” Ratchet and Sunstreaker asked in near unison.  
  
       Sideswipe looked at them over Ratchet’s stretched out and tied down form. Ratchet was doing his best to crane his neck around to glare, and he impatiently wiggled his rear again. Of course, the way he was tied down didn’t leave much room for him to do anything else, but Ratchet seemed to think that it served as an obvious demand. Sunstreaker agreed.  
  
       Sideswipe glanced back down to where his spike was seated fully in Ratchet’s valve. “I don’t think you’re wet enough,” Sideswipe mused.  
  
       Sunstreaker blinked his optics and leaned forward over Ratchet; smears of lubricant liberally covered both Ratchet’s and Sideswipe’s thighs. For a moment, Sunstreaker had been worried that Ratchet was in pain, but judging by the physical evidence, that didn’t seem likely. Sideswipe pulled out anyway, more trails of lubricant making their way down Ratchet’s thighs. At the loss of a spike in his valve, Ratchet began spitting curses which Sunstreaker mostly tuned out out of practice.  
  
       “What are you doing, glitchhead?” Sunstreaker asked, sitting back. He reached for Ratchet’s chin, pulling the medic’s face around. Sunstreaker presented his spike, wiping the tip across Ratchet’s lipplates.  
  
       “Suck,” Sunstreaker instructed when Sideswipe didn’t answer. “He’s got some kind of plan, so he’ll be back.”  
  
       Ratchet dove forward and began to suck and lick earnestly as if needing an outlet for his frustration. Sunstreaker certainly didn’t have a problem with that, and his head fell back, optics slitting nearly closed. His optics lazily followed Sideswipe as he walked across the room to his storage locker. Sideswipe’s spike was jutting proud and dripping from the apex of his thighs, and Sunstreaker felt his own spike twitch as his twin bent over, exposing his luscious rear end.  
  
       Sunstreaker didn’t know how his brother could walk away from such an inviting sight as Ratchet’s leaking valve, but then Sideswipe had always had a smidgen more restraint than Sunstreaker. He was also deviously inventive when it came to berth matters, so whatever it was that made him walk away was sure to be good.  
  
       Sideswipe rummaged through his locker contents until he finally made a quiet ‘ah ha!’ sound and padded back across the room. He resumed his position behind Ratchet and lovingly stroked Ratchet’s lower back and aft with teasing touches. He bent to place a kiss just above Ratchet’s quivering valve, making the medic growl.  
  
       “Better do something,” Sunstreaker advised. “Ratch’s about to break free and throttle you.”  
  
       Sideswipe grinned lazily and raised the bottle he had been holding. “I’m getting there,” he said, tilting it. Lavender liquid began pouring out, and Sunstreaker finally recognized the substance as the medical lubricant that Ratchet kept in the medbay for procedures.  
  
       Easily half the bottle was emptied, the lubricant making Ratchet’s aft and thighs gleam softly in the room’s lights. Sunstreaker’s optics were caught by the reflective substance as the lubricant seemed to accent every one of Ratchet’s curves.  
  
       Sideswipe dropped the bottle to the berth and slid his hands over Ratchet’s wet frame, humming in appreciation. Sideswipe slid a hand between Ratchet’s thighs, three of Sideswipe’s digits easily slipping easily into Ratchet’s valve.  
  
       “Well,” Sideswipe sighed, removing his fingers and coating his spike with a copious amount of liquid from the bottle. “I guess this will have to be enough.”  
  
       “What in Primus’ name are you…ah!” Ratchet growled. The last few words disappeared into a wailing cry as Sideswipe slammed back home. He immediately set up a brutally fast pace, slick fingers groping along Ratchet’s sides to dip into seams and crevices. Each brush of metal against metal was now accompanied by an obscene squelching sound that had Sideswipe grinning smugly.  
  
       Sunstreaker’s optics widened, and he leaned back forward over Ratchet’s helm to watch his brother’s spike repeatedly disappear into and emerge from Ratchet’s glistening depths.  
  
       “Yeah,” Sideswipe murmured. He released Ratchet’s sides and slowed to a stop, withdrawing until only the tip of his spike remained in Ratchet’s clutching valve. He refused to move despite Ratchet’s wordless begging and instead lightly stroked Ratchet’s trembling rear. Sideswipe suddenly smacked Ratchet’s aft, making him jolt in surprise. Drops of liquid spattered up from the contact, landing on Ratchet’s upper back.  
  
       “Yeah,” Sideswipe repeated, voice sinfully dark. Sunstreaker shivered a little at the familiar tone; it always heralded good things. “Come on, baby. I want to see you move.”  
  
       Sunstreaker withdrew out of Ratchet’s mouth and came around to stand next to his brother, intrigued. He reached out to lightly slap Ratchet’s aft as well, Sunstreaker’s other hand speeding along his own length.  
  
       “Use his spike, Ratchet. I know you’re close. Come on, frag him,” Sunstreaker urged.  
  
       Moaning brokenly, Ratchet did as he was told and shoved himself back onto Sideswipe’s spike. Ratchet didn’t have a lot of room to move, but he managed as best he could, little grunts of exertion falling from his lipplates.  
  
       Sunstreaker felt his charge building rapidly from the arousing sight, and he saw Sideswipe trembling with the effort of holding himself back. His hands made a continual sweep over the shining red aft, alternating petting and slapping it while murmuring filthy encouragements.  
  
       Ratchet suddenly howled, violently impaling his valve on Sideswipe’s spike and fitfully circling his hips. He shook as his overload washed over him, and Sideswipe finally broke. He grabbed Ratchet’s waist and thrust deep once, twice, and finally a third time before freezing, shouting hoarsely in overload.  
  
       Overwhelmingly aroused by the impromptu show, Sunstreaker’s digits tightened on his spike as transfluid erupted from it, adding to the mess coating Ratchet’s middle. Sunstreaker shook as he sank down to the berth, the sounds of his cooling fans loud in his audios.  
  
       Together, with shaking hands, Sunstreaker and his brother unbound Ratchet. The medic didn’t even move, still moaning weakly as he came down from his charge. Sunstreaker met Sideswipe’s optics over Ratchet’s glistening back.  
  
       “What was that about?” Sunstreaker asked, curious.  
  
       Sideswipe shrugged. “Humans are pretty inventive.”  
  
       “You’re been watching porn on the internet again, haven’t you?” Sunstreaker accused.  
  
       “You got a problem with that?” Sideswipe asked, arching an optic ridge.  
  
       Sunstreaker took stock of his heated frame and tingling extremities as well as Ratchet’s fragged out form. “Nah,” Sunstreaker replied. “As long as these are the results, I don’t care how you do your research.”  
  
       Sideswipe grinned tiredly and flopped onto his back. “I do love research,” he said smugly.


End file.
